


my mouth is filled with honey

by scandalous



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Comeplay, Consentacles, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Dominant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fat Aziraphale, M/M, Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Submissive Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex, distention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-25 15:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20914589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Crowley indulges Aziraphale on hisinterestin tentacles.





	my mouth is filled with honey

**Author's Note:**

> um. yeah! for day 3 of kinktober (yes i'm behind already), mixing distention with tentacles. kinda a needed mix, imo.
> 
> enjoy!

Crowley has often said he will do anything his angel asks of him.

Which is, after all, a very generous offer, considering Aziraphale’s hedonistic tastes in everything, especially regarding sex. So that’s why he’s not particularly surprised when Aziraphale’s latest request involves something he found out when they went to Japan a few decades back. As much as he isn’t adapted to the Internet, he still has made his way into that adult bookstore right next to his own. Which has, well,  _ interesting  _ comics from Japan.

“Are you sure you want to indulge me with this?” Aziraphale asks, pulling him into a quick kiss.

He smiles. Indulging Aziraphale is one of his greatest pleasures in his eternal life. He wouldn’t change it for the entire world, or for the end of it. “Anything for you, love.”

“Good,” Aziraphale tells him, smiling at him with that kindness that is so his. “Then get to it.”

He obeys. The fat, drooling tentacles slide out of his body with ease, pulling Aziraphale’s pants off along with his boxers. Crowley can’t help but watch in abject desire as they drool down Aziraphale’s fat thighs, spreading him open with the tinier tendrils. 

Aziraphale looks positively thrilled, as well, head tilted back on their sofa, hips twitching up. He’s wet, dripping, begging for them to be inside him.

“Am I doing good?” Crowley asks as one of them presses right against his entrance, always careful. Another one pulls Aziraphale’s shirt up, exposing his belly. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale breathes. “You’re doing amazing, dear, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He pushes it into him, slowly fucking in and out as it grows in size, stretching him comfortably. Aziraphale’s moans are downright divine, as they always have been— downright airy as he gets fucked by the tentacles, so gorgeous and so needy. Filthy— that’s the word Aziraphale always likes to have used. His hedonism is unstoppable, and he only wants more, more, more.

“I don’t plan to, angel,” Crowley tells him, pulling himself closer to Aziraphale, watching the scene with utmost interest. “Do you want anything else of this?”

“Make them bigger,” Aziraphale tells him. “Big enough to, to—” and his angel sounds truly wicked right then— “to  _ show _ .”

Crowley swallows thickly, eyes wide with want. He knows what his angel means, so he delivers as they grow in size, pushing right at his cunt, it greedily taking it all, pulsing around the fat, drooling thing inside him. He makes it bigger before he fucks into him hard, hard enough for it to show. It’s just for a few seconds, but it makes Crowley’s knees weak; the way the head of the tentacle pushes right against Aziraphale’s fat belly, big enough for it to show.

“Oh, dear boy,” Aziraphale moans, wicked groans leaving his mouth as he leans a hand down to rub at his own clit, incessant in his movements. Crowley wants to sneak his hand down his pants as well, rub himself to completion, but oh, Aziraphale has not allowed him to. So he doesn’t, pent-up with need, with the satisfaction of seeing Aziraphale come undone because of him. “Oh— oh, fuck, Crowley, Anthony, dear—”

“Yes?” he asks, desperate, nails digging into his own thighs as he watches him. The tentacle protruding against his round belly, it fucking into him mercilessly, the way Aziraphale sweats, writhes underneath it, overtaken by hedonistic pleasure. It’s all too much.

“You’re doing so good, dear,” he moans. “Don’t stop, love, fill me up, fill me up, fuck, Anthony!”

Crowley obliges, knots unfurling in his stomach as the beastly thing releases inside of Aziraphale. It’s far too much, like he has gone overboard, but with the delirious look in Aziraphale’s face as he wriggles, climaxing, he knows he has pleased his angel just right. The come is enough to dribble out of his cunt before he even removes the tentacle. He can’t help but watch in amazement, so tight with arousal he feels like just a brush against his clit would send him reeling.

Aziraphale catches his breath, still rubbing at his own clit, searching for another orgasm. “Dear boy?” he says, voice thick with wanton.

“Yes?” he perks up.

“Come clean me up, will you?” he asks. It’s more of an order than anything.

Crowley doesn’t hesitate, anyway. He reaches down, settles himself on his stomach on the couch as he leans forward. He presses kisses to Aziraphale’s thick thighs before leaning down to his core, starting to lick at him eagerly. The come tastes overtly sweet, not a conscious choice on his part— it’s kind of like honey, sickly sweet, as he cleans Aziraphale up. He digs in, tongue pushing in and taking all he can reach. 

As Aziraphale wraps his thighs around him, keeps him there as he cleans him up, he knows he’ll have to indulge Aziraphale’s taste for tentacles more often. 


End file.
